


I Hope You're Happy

by LiamLogan



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Conflict, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Physical Abuse, analogical - Freeform, royality, warning this does allude to an abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiamLogan/pseuds/LiamLogan
Summary: Anxiety is desperate to become a light side, and has been for months. He finds himself approaching Deceit to ask him for assistance, and he at first refuses. Anxiety grows more and more desperate, and Deceit is left with a difficult set of decisions





	I Hope You're Happy

**Author's Note:**

> A further warning: there is some allusion to an abusive relationship and mention of depression. Please read with care, and I hope you enjoy it :D  
> (also it's 8k all in one, rather than separated by chapters)

Deceit slammed his fists on the table, furious at Anxiety’s request.

“You want _what_?” He hissed, the scales on the right side of his face seeming to sharpen with rage. Anxiety had no idea if they were real or not, but they were all he could focus on.

“I want you to make me a light side.” He repeated. Deceit observed the repeated tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg, and how he seemed adamant on seeing straight past him rather than at him. How pertinent.

“I know what you can do,” Anxiety continued, “all I’m asking is for you to do something simple. How hard can it be?”

“Just because I _can_ doesn’t mean I should, or will.” He sat back down in his chair, reaching for a quill and parchment. Anxiety couldn’t see what he was writing, nor could he see where he actually kept his stationary before summoning them seemingly out of thin air, but he could definitely see the fury that Deceit put no effort into masking. A candle flickered, making the whole room flash in dark ambience; Deceit was far above electric lighting, instead insisting on candles.

“Please?” He asked, hopeful.

“We’re not children, Anxiety, just because you say ‘please’ doesn’t make me feel more inclined to satiate your childish hopes.”

“What will it take? What do I have to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do! I’m not making you into a light side, because you’re a dark side and that’s all you need to be!”

“But what if I want to be more than I need to be?” Anxiety retorted timidly, feeling something reminiscent of courage bubbling inside him. Deceit, seeing this, laughed.

“Oh, Anxiety, what is this? Don’t you remember what happened last time you got a bit too confident?” He taunted, reaching a gloved hand to stroke his fingers across Anxiety’s face, where two black circles had been burnt just below his eyes. Anxiety gulped, his hands quivering, but he held them in a fist to prevent Deceit observing his state.

“I’m sorry I asked. Can I leave now?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“ _May_ I leave now?”

“Of course.”

 

Anxiety sauntered back to his room, taking deep breaths and rubbing his palms together the whole way. Yes, he could have teleported; being in the mind of someone called Thomas, he could do almost anything he wanted, but he wanted to walk. He thought about how to proceed: he was desperate to become a light side, it kept him up at night and it ached in his bones, but Deceit was the only one who could do it for him, and he refused. He heard laughter coming from someplace outside. That was the thing: whenever the light sides got to help Thomas, they seemed distant, as if they were not even in Thomas’s mind anymore. And, being a dark side who had never gotten to help Thomas before, he had no idea where they went. He just knew that, here in the mindscape, each of the sides got their own room along a dark corridor that looked something akin to Thomas’s bedroom, but Anxiety’s was dark, cold, and uninviting. Nevertheless, he opened the door and, engulfed by the eeriness of it, felt at home once again.

Deceit sighed once more. Finally alone, he examined all the notes he’d ever written regarding Anxiety. His first ever request was regarding his room—he’d wanted it to be smaller so that it didn’t feel as empty—which Deceit had happily fulfilled. He and Anxiety had been ‘associates’ for a long time now, but they were far from friends. He kept reading the notes, and felt his blood boiling as he did so, his hands trembling, and his non-scarred eye twitching. The irreverence with which Anxiety had shown him throughout the years was all coming back to him, and he _dared_ to ask him to become a light side, of all things? The requests, he read, got more and more absurd, and that’s when he finally came to the most infuriating one yet (now, actually, the second most infuriating one yet): the time Anxiety had asked for a name. The way he had swaggered into the room, uninvited, the way he had slammed his hands on the vintage desk and demanded a name, so shortly after he noticed that those god forsaken ‘light sides’ had had names. He didn’t want a name at all: he wanted the title that came with it. He wanted the association.

“ _Oh, look at me, I have a name now, I’m a light side like you! Now we can all hold hands and frolic in the fields of friendship_!” Deceit mocked in a caricatured, high-pitched voice that could not have been further from Anxiety’s real voice. “ _Oh, and screw you Deceit! All the times you helped me get what I want don’t matter now! I’m a light side and you’re not, ha ha ha! I’m now so much better than you!_ ”

The anger came by Deceit all over again, and he had to fight the urge to go find Anxiety and hurt him again. He had hurt him that time, and he revelled in it. The darkness under his eyes was no accident; it was a punishment, no, a warning to not ever demand such a thing. He remembered the lightning strikes and thunder clashes and fire he had summoned to make them as painful as possible, and still, months later, he could sometimes hear Anxiety crying in his room in agony. He remembered his fury and felt it wash over him again, soothed only with the knowledge that Anxiety had a permanent symbol under his eyes of his mistakes. Deceit laughed aloud. Hearing this all the way from his room, Anxiety cried.

 

Anxiety watched as the three light sides laughed together. He watched as Logan—Logic, technically, but he wanted to call him by his name—tried to stop Creativity from making a whole new room, while Morality egged him on with delight. He couldn’t remember the names of the other two. Logan’s efforts were futile, and it took only a minute for a whole new room to have been made within the corridor of the mindscape. He didn’t even want to imagine what that felt like for Thomas, to have a new room made in his mind, but the thought disturbed him. Creativity and Morality bounded into the new room while Logan tried to stifle his admiration. As it stood, the room was hollow and echoic, with bare walls and an empty floor.

“Don’t worry, Roman, we can fill it with things later!” Patton called with glee. That’s when Anxiety remembered the others’ names: Roman and Patton. Knowing this, could he be one step closer to being liked by them?

“I must admit that, while I was sceptical at first about the feasibility of making a whole new room, this is actually rather impressive. Well done, Roman.” Logan said flatly.

“Sorry that I couldn’t make it look nicer.” Roman muttered. Offended at his apology, the other two sprung at the opportunity to correct and compliment him.

“Roman, this must have taken so much effort, much more would have been so strenuous on your mind that you could have damaged yourself.”

“It looks great the way it is!”

“It isn’t as if we can’t add furniture in here at a later date.”

“And that just adds to the fun of it!” The compliments kept coming, at first Logan and Patton took turns in comforting him, but their words soon became synchronised and indistinguishable. Anxiety, overwhelmed (not by the noise, but by the sheer love and kindness that they had for each other), crept back to his room and silently shut the door. He sighed, ready to cry once more, before he turned around and saw Deceit hung dramatically over a chair.

“What do you want?” Anxiety snarled. Deceit laughed and sat up straight.

“You tell me.” He said, resting his elbow on the desk and cupping his face. Anxiety hated that pose, and the audacity for Deceit to be in his room only added to his annoyance.

“I’ve told you what I want.” He replied. Deceit stood up and stepped tentatively towards him.

“Not all of it. Tell me: why do you want to be like them? Why do you want to be the subject of spiteful love and ridicule? Why does the idea of being forced endlessly to work towards a meaningless goal appeal to you?” He taunted, circling Anxiety like a vulture.

“That’s not what they are!” Anxiety protested. “They love each other, just look at them, it isn’t hard to see how much they care about each other, and how much fun they all have together! Don’t even try to convince me that it isn’t real love!”

“Oh, and you’d know so much about ‘real love’, wouldn’t you?” Anxiety tried to formulate a clever or sarcastic response, but he could barely even manage a stutter before Deceit made to leave the room. Anxiety stayed glued to the spot, anticipating his departure. However, just before he left, Deceit turned on his heels and whispered into Anxiety’s ear.

“Don’t you even think about it.”

 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you boys that it’s rude to stare?” Deceit chuckled sardonically as he made to return to his room, noticing the laughter and talks cease at his appearance.

“Why were you in Anxiety’s room?” Logan interrogated as the other two made to stand by his side.

“Pay that no heed, Logic.”

“Logan.” He snarled. Only he would dare to correct Deceit (on that note, only he would ever be able to correct Deceit; whimsical as the snake may be, he is not swayed by fantasy nor feeling, only fact).

“Oh, don’t be so feisty, Logic. I _gave_ you that name, I can take it away just as easily.” That shut him up.

 

Deceit, sat at his desk with his feet up, clicked his pen with frustration and boredom. Why was Anxiety do desperate to become a light side? The three had never treated either of them with respect or humanity—not even that damned Morality—which was made the more worse when he remembered that he gave them their names, he gave them their rooms, and he gave them their roles. He had practically made them into what they were, and he did it with pride and joy, but none of it had ever been reciprocated; as soon as Thomas had been able to think coherently and rationally, he had been cast aside and shunned for his being. Why did he even concede to giving the three names, knowing who he was to them?

“Because I’m stupid.” He sighed aloud. He went over the notes he’d made at the time of the deal, ‘receipts’, Anxiety called them, and tried to remember what had tempted him.

“Oh,” he remembered, “it was for Thomas.” As was everything Deceit did. Before he could get too deep in wallowing in his own self-pity, he heard a knock at the door. Hastily shoving his pen back into the drawer and retrieving his quill, he invited in the side. Expecting Logan to enter in fury at the disrespect he’d displayed, he was pleasantly surprised to see Anxiety shuffle in.

“Take a seat.” Offered Deceit, gesturing to the armchair opposite himself.

“No, this shouldn’t take long. I didn’t know you were the one who gave the others names. Why did you do it for them and not me?”

“I am confounded,” replied the snake, whose features grew more and more serpentine as he spoke, “as to how you didn’t know I gave them the names. Who do you think did it? Themselves? Don’t be so obtuse.” Anxiety shuffled on his feet. Blinking heavily and deliberately, he continued his interrogation.

“Why would you let them have names and not me? Why don’t you give yourself one, too?”

“Anxiety, I don’t think you quite understand the whole story. I ask: what is the fundamental difference between us and them?”

“They have names! Because you made them light sides!”

“Because Thomas _wants_ them. We exist because Thomas needs us, whether _he_ likes it or not. They get to be light sides because Thomas wants them, whether _they_ like it or not. I am Deceit because I can convince Thomas anything I want, and you are Anxiety because you are… Like that.” He gestured towards Anxiety and his general being.

“But, what’s there not to like about being a light side?”

“Want to find out?”

 

It was naïve for Anxiety to think that, when Deceit did finally acquiesce to making him a light side, it would be a pleasant experience. Deceit grinned, flashing fangs and twisting his scales to be more ominous than he had ever seen, the scar on the right side of his face twisted into a tormented grimace, and there was an indescribable glint in his eye. He blew out the candle, plunging the room into a pitch black, and took his hand. He heard a hiss of ‘follow me’ and complied, terrified for his existence. They walked a much further distance than Anxiety believed the size of his room would allow, making his suspicions grow.

“Are we walking in circles?”

“Quiet!” He hissed. “Or you’ll wake them!” Anxiety feared what was meant by ‘them’. They stopped. He heard the creak of an opening door, and they walked a few more steps before pausing again, followed by another creak, and a click.

“I am going to release your hand, but you must stay very still.” He whispered, almost inaudibly, in his ear. As said, Anxiety’s hand was released. Unseen by the other, Deceit removed his gloves. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to make a yellow aura glow from his fingertips. It started subtle enough for Anxiety to dismiss the light as an illusion, but it grew and grew until the entire area had lit up with a neon yellow. Lining the walls was a plethora of jars containing something of all colours, and a cauldron resided in the middle of the room. As the light from Deceit’s fingertips grew stronger, Anxiety was able to make out that the mysterious substance in the jars wasn’t just ‘something’, but eyes on globular bodies. Eyes, from all angles around the two, were watching and observing unblinkingly from their jars, and a few even seemed to grin, but Anxiety stayed still as Deceit had ordered, not just through obedience, but through fear.

“This is my real room.” Deceit said, shattering the silence. “The façade I’ve been using to hide this is far from my taste.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“No. This is my world, not theirs. Are you ready?” Anxiety gulped, unsure if he was. He had wanted this for years now, he knew he had to proceed. He looked at Deceit, who appeared ghostly in the light emitting from his fingertips, and Anxiety saw his life flash before his eyes, remembering the nights he spent unable to sleep, longing to be a light side, and all the times he watched the other three laugh happily together, and how he had suffered permanent, agonising black scorch marks on his face for this. He felt a cold relief rush through him. With a deep breath, he blinked with confidence.

“I’m ready.” The light erupted from Deceit’s hands, and he had to close his eyes to not be blinded by the bright white that filled the room. When he opened his eyes, Anxiety saw Deceit sitting by the brewing cauldron with a bubbling liquid the same colour as the yellow light filling it almost to the brim. He heard a whistle from all angles, and noticed that the globular eyes had grown mouths, and were all screeching at him.

“Pay no heed to my friends. Sit down, put your mind at ease. Now, relax.”

“What are they?”

“They’re everything I need.  Don’t shake so much, calm yourself down so that I may do whatever I please.” His eyes lit up, with different colours flashing behind them, reds and blues that couldn’t possibly be a reflection of anything in the room. Anxiety fiddled with the zips of his hoodie to calm himself down, but subtly enough not to be noticed by Deceit—which, unbeknown by Anxiety, he did anyway. He did, however, notice the effort he had put in to hide it, so kept his mouth shut.

“What is that?” Anxiety asked.

“A formula. All you’ll need to do is drink it, and you’ll be visible to Thomas. I cannot guarantee that he will be happy about your presence.”

“A formula? Could you elaborate?”

“Could you be grateful that I’m doing this for you, despite the fact that it’ll leave me alone as the only dark side left?” Deceit snapped. “Could you be grateful that, after everything, I’m giving you what you want with no expectation for anything in return? Could you also be grateful that even though I’m using all my efforts to make you into something you’ve always wanted, knowing I will get nothing in return and that I will be left by myself forever, we both know I will still always come through for you, once you’re happy with them, living a life I could never provide?”

“I’m sorry. I am grateful. Thank you.”

“Understand that I’m changing Thomas’s reality for you.”

“That’s why you’re Deceit, isn’t it?” Anxiety asked innocently. For the first time in months, Deceit smiled genuinely. He hid it from the other so that he didn’t think anything of it, but it made him happy. Happy to be recognised, to be known, to have his services acknowledged. After all, Deceit was more than just trickery, but manipulation manifested into man. It was nice to be known as such. Suddenly, claps of thunder and flashes of lightning ensued, sending Anxiety into a fit of fright; he scratched the palms of his hand and his wrist vigorously and bit his lip. He reached to pull at his own hair to fight the overwhelming pain inside that reminded him of his black scar-like marks, which burnt like fire in his distress.

“I said calm yourself, Anxiety! We’re nearly done!”

“Deceit, the thunder, please…” The noise went on for only a few more moments, any longer and he wouldn’t have made it, but it was done, and the room fell silent. Whatever Deceit had planned was done, and by tomorrow, surely, Anxiety would finally be a light side like he’d dreamt of for months. Deceit examined the shelves that lined the wall, somehow able to decipher the encrypted messages on each of the jars, and selected one with a purple and black body of mass in it. Without removing it, he grabbed the ladle by the side of the cauldron and spooned enough of the formula to fill it to the brim. He approached the other, who was now rocking back and forth where he sat, and tilted his head back, holding the jar to his lips, and feeding him the contents. Leaning in closer, Deceit observed the glimmer in his eyes, one he recognised all too well, and one he would most certainly miss. As the jar emptied, Anxiety choked, but Deceit tilted his head further back and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Don’t worry, this little guy won’t hurt you, but you need to consume him.” Deceit soothed, finally releasing the soon-to-be light side.

“What was it?”

“You… It’s getting late now, you should go back to your room; you have a big day tomorrow.” And with that, he took Anxiety’s hand and led him back out of his room, and, not stopping just at his façade room, took him all the way into his own room.

“I can walk here from your room myself, you know.” Anxiety protested with a passive-aggressive tone.

“You could have, but I wouldn’t trust you not to try to talk to the other three—the _other_ light sides, I should say now that you’re one of them—but you must give time. By tomorrow you should be fine. And try not to get attached too quickly, I’ve seen how you watch them, especially the clever one.”

“They’re all clever.” He retorted.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know which one I mean.” Deceit said sharply. “I’m sorry.” Softly, he reached to cup Anxiety’s face in his hands, now re-gloved, and kissed him on the forehead, much to both their disgust and unease.

“Don’t do that. Never again.”

“Be grateful it was a kiss and not a recurrence of… You know when.” Deceit sauntered out of his room, and, when the door clicked shut, let out a long-held sigh.

“I’ll miss you.”

 

Anxiety awoke the next morning buzzing, he got up with a smile on his face and a pleasant warmth all throughout his body. He got dressed, his clothes feeling particularly comfortable and fashionable, and even the pain from the dark patches seemed to be easing up a bit. He bounded out of his room and looked back to the area Roman had made just yesterday, noticing how one of them had already put in a bookshelf big enough to frame the entire back wall, and three seats had been placed: a rocking chair, an elaborate throne, and a beanbag patterned with cartoon animals. He wandered over, curious for how the three would react when they saw him there. Alone, he materialised a table and sat on it cross-legged waiting for them excitedly.

 

After ten minutes, Logan appeared in the room, too, rubbing his eyes and yawning. When he saw Anxiety, he paused, trying not to be rude and stare, but also trying to make sure that what he was seeing was real.

“Hi! I’m a light side now!” Anxiety exclaimed with an unusual enthusiasm.

“Good morning. May I ask, what is your name?”

“Oh…” Anxiety was taken aback, unsure as to how to respond. Not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of Logan, he blurted out the first word that came to mind. “My name is Virgil?” He sighed with relief: at least the name he had elected for himself was an actual name, and not an object, or a name that one of the others already had.

“Thank you. I’m Logan, and I advocate for logic. I believe you are that for anxiety, rather the antithesis of logic.” His tone was robotic and, while Anxiety—Virgil—was used to hearing him speak with something of monotony to the others, he’d never heard him be quite so apathetic, or even spiteful, before. “But I suppose Deceit must have seen something in you to make you one of us, seen something _useful_ , otherwise you wouldn’t be here. May I also ask, why do you have all that makeup on your face?”

“Makeup?”

“Do you mean to tell me that those dark circles under your eyes are not the result of frivolous eyeshadow placement?”

“Oh, that… Yeah, no, it is makeup. Oh and as for why, I just like it. It makes me feel better, I guess.” He lied, knowing Deceit would be revelling in it, but not wanting to expose his dark past to Logan. Not yet. From his years of watching from the side-lines, he always daydreamed about one day opening up to him, and being comforted by him for all he’d been through, Logan definitely seemed like the more grounded of the sides, one he could talk to without being overwhelmed by his character, but Virgil’s fond appreciation for Logan was not reciprocated by any means. Logan adjusted his glasses, coughed, and meandered to the bookshelf, selecting a book seemingly at random, and then sank into the rocking chair. He opened it at a random page, and tried to scan the words and analyse their meanings, construing his very own version of the story they told in his head, but Virgil was a fidgety character, and every movement cast his eyes in his direction, rudely averting his attention from what he actually wanted. Logan quickly grew agitated.

“Logan?” Virgil asked. Logan slowly turned his head away from his book, facing Virgil with a stone-cold glare, and did very little to mask his annoyance at the sudden appearance of such a side. As Virgil took in the features of his face, he noticed a strange scar that he swore he’d never seen before across his right cheek.

“What?”

“Where do we go when Thomas needs us?”

“Did Deceit not tell you anything?” Virgil blushed, trying to sound casual, but the irksome tapping of his leg did little to alleviate the slowly-brewing anger within Logan.

“No, he didn’t say anything…”

“Who the hell is this?” Roman bellowed, striding towards them.

“He said his name is Virgil, and that he’s a light side now.” Replied Logan, abruptly silencing the near-distraught Virgil.

“ _Now_?” Roman scoffed, exposing strange fang-like teeth. “Can that happen? Is Deceit allowed to do that?”

“I sincerely believe that Deceit can do whatever he wants.”

“But why does he have to make _him_ one of us?”

“He must have thought it beneficial for Thomas to heighten the role anxiety has in his life.”

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Interrupted Patton who leapt in with a smile, which dropped once his eyes fell upon Virgil. “And why is Anxiety here? Is he meant to be?”

“You could at least be talking to _me_ , you guys.” He said, trying to steady his voice while staring intently at the space on the wall between Patton and Roman. “I’m not, like, a monster. You can ask _me_ why I’m here, ask _me_ why Deceit made me a light side like you, or ask _me_ if I’m meant to be here. You don’t have to talk to each other about me like I can’t hear you.”

“Explain yourself, then.” Roman demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, explain.” Patton said. Logan was silent.

“Oh, well… Deceit made me a light side, presumably the same way he made all of you light sides, too, I guess…” He didn’t want to confess that he’d begged to be like them; judging from their displeasure at him even existing amongst them, he dreaded to think what they’d do if they knew he’d actually been the one to suggest it.

“Wait, so what’s your name?” Patton asked.

“Virgil.” He replied, noticing something of a malicious glint in Patton’s right eye. Frightened, he continued. “And I think I’ll be going now.” And with that, he slid off the table and shuffled back to his room.

“Good riddance.” Hissed Roman. Slamming his door as loudly and obnoxiously as he could behind him, Virgil sank into his bed, shaking, and sobbed into his pillow.

 

As if the slamming of Virgil’s door had flipped a switch, the other three light sides blinked, confused, and all cast glances at each other that nobody but themselves would be able to read.

“What just happened?” Asked Logan, peering at the book he swore he didn’t have mere moments ago.

“Wait, I was _just_ in my room, how did I get here?” Roman asked in the same tone.

“I was asleep in my room, and I just woke up here!” Added Patton. As the three stood together in their confusion, and while Virgil broke down alone, Deceit cackled, holding his un-gloved fingertips together.

 

Typically, the light sides would show up and be visible to Thomas voluntarily, whenever he needed some guidance they would collectively agree to show themselves to him. It was rare that any of them would appear to him without discussing it first, but rarer still it was to be ‘summoned’, as Roman would call it, by one of the others. Virgil, however, was summoned rather forcefully nearing the end of his breakdown, and he suddenly found himself sat by the stairs in Thomas’s living room.

“What?!” He yelled in confused delight.

“Oh, Anxiety, I can summon you! I knew something felt different!” Patton squealed with glee. Roman looked at him and smiled, and he was confused but not about to object to this positive attention, even if it was feigned as he strongly suspected. He turned to Logan, his heart racing with more than just the excitement of being summoned, and noticed that he no longer had the scar he was sure he saw on him before.

“Oh, Anxiety, you’re a light side.” He remarked, back to his usual monotony rather than his cold apathy.

“Yeah,” Virgil replied, “and you know my name is Virgil, so please call me that.”

“Oh, Virgil!” Exclaimed Roman. “A quirky name, but I like it!”

“Virgil, as in the Roman poet?” Enquired Logan.

“What is _happening_?” Asked Thomas, who had been neglected amongst this wave of happiness upon Virgil’s arrival.

“I’m a light side now.”

“So, to summarise why we summoned you here: Thomas has been feeling an unusual lack of motivation to adhere to the timetable I had so artfully construed and has instead resigned himself to wasting hours mindlessly on his phone,” Logan explained, “and we simply want to think of the best way possible for Thomas to find his motivation again so as to meet his deadlines set for video filming, editing, and publishing. What do you propose, Virgil?” They all looked at him expectedly.

“I don’t know, maybe if we figured out the crux of the issue to start with rather than instantly trying to get rid of it that could be a good start. Maybe the issue isn’t lack of motivation but maybe something else…” He suggested, trying his hardest to sound anything but worried as he kept glancing at Logan and tried to meet his eyes, but the other turned away abruptly. Roman, on the other hand, whispered to Patton. Neither Virgil nor Logan could tell exactly what they were saying, but, while Logan payed it no mind, Virgil tried so hard to ignore it, that the muffled and incoherent sounds were all he could focus on.

“I’m surprised Logan didn’t think of that.” He said.

“Maybe he didn’t say it so that Virgil would get to make the point and get credit for it instead.” Patton replied. Sure that their surreptitious whispering was a means of unnerving him, Virgil teleported back into the mindscape in a panic, and paced around his room wondering why they were being so nice to him.

 

“Where did he just go?” Thomas asked, inaudible to Virgil.

“Probably back to his room.”

“I hope he’s okay.”

“Let’s please focus on the task at hand, and consider Virgil’s suggestion about the real crux of the issue…”

 

Meanwhile, as Virgil was pacing in circles around his room, wishing it was bigger so he had more room to do so without having to go in quite so many circles, Deceit listened from outside the door. He couldn’t tell what he was saying, but Anxiety was definitely muttering to himself. He sauntered in.

“How has your first day been going thus far?” He snarled.

“Deceit! Can I come back? Please, I changed my mind, you were right, they’re so mean and when I finally got summoned to help Thomas they all pretended to be nice but Roman and Patton were whispering to each other and I just _know_ it was about me!”

“Oh, Anxiety, you go through so much grief to become a light side and make me work so hard to help you and you’re not even enjoying it. I warned you, remember that! You got what you always wanted, you said what you had to say, and I’m not falling for it again. You cannot vacillate between being a light side and a dark side, that’s not how it works. Well, I hope you’re satisfied. I hope you’re proud, and happy, and I hope that you learn to use that pretty face for something other than making me do your bidding. I’ll see you on the other side.” And with that, he disappeared. He did not storm out, but just disappeared.

“You didn’t need to teleport, your room is like a dozen steps away.” Virgil muttered to himself spitefully.

 

Another few hours passed. Deceit was sat at his desk, twisting a pen around his fingertips delicately, sighing and blinking heavily, trying to control the convulsive shaking in his chest. He lit another candle, trying to control the shivering on his skin and the iciness he felt in his heart.

“Was I too hard on him?” He asked the fluorescent yellow snake which slithered around the room, coiling and recoiling with every flicker of the candle.

“What do you think?” It replied. Deceit took care not to take anything it said too seriously; snakes do not usually talk in the real world, he reminded himself, and when they do it isn’t very nice.

“I don’t know, which is why I asked you.”

“You know I’m nothing but a figment of your imagination, the manifestation of consequence, the mediator of woes.”

“No need to be so melodramatic.”

“I learnt from the best.” It smiled, unnerving Deceit to the point of near-insanity. Now he understood why Anxiety hated his own smile the way he did.

“Just tell me, am I being unfair to him right now?”

“No. He asked to be a light side, he brought this upon himself, so he can’t turn back now. It’s not as if you didn’t warn him.”

“But possessing the others this morning to be cruel to him? That was petty, don’t you think? Now he thinks that they hate him when I know for a fact that they don’t—and some facts are indisputable as that god-forsaken Logan would say—and all because I miss him and am too ashamed to admit it! All because I wanted to hurt him!”

“He hurt you, too. The moment he asked to be a light side, the moment he even decided he wanted to be one, to cast you aside and abandon you while he could, just to flourish alongside them. Hell, ever since he asked you for a name!”

“No,” Deceit interrupted, “ _I_ hurt him since he asked for a name. The black scars still hurt him and he won’t even admit it to Logan. Did you see this morning when he actually pretended it was makeup? That was so long ago and I’ve done nothing but hurt him ever since. He didn’t even need to ask me! He assigned his own name this morning—Virgil, I think he said—at that time he just wanted one from me. He wanted me to have input on what he became and I couldn’t even let him have that…”

“So how are we to proceed?” The snake asked, twirling up Deceit’s wrist. He gulped.

“I’ll give him something he knows he wants. No strings attached.”

 

“What brings you here?” Logan asked Deceit, who had invited himself into his room and even had the audacity to lock the door behind him so that neither could leave until Deceit got what he wanted. “And don’t pretend I don’t know what you did to us all this morning.”

“Logan, calm yourself.” Deceit smiled, silencing him. “And believe me when I say I play no part in the lies you tell yourself about Anxiety.”

“His name is Virgil, and I know you didn’t even give him that name, so you should have the respect to call him by _who_ he is rather than _what_ he is.”

“So defensive on his behalf.”

“And what about it?” Logan asked, his heart palpitating and his hands twitching.

“Admit it. There’s no shame in it.” Deceit demanded desperately.

“Never. It is clear that he doesn’t like us, it would be of no service to resign myself to a frivolity of… That.”

“You cannot even ‘resign yourself’ to saying it?”

“It is illogical. Go talk to Roman or Patton, that’s more their department.”

 

Deceit tried to negotiate with him, but he was stubborn.

“Learn to swallow your pride, ‘Logic’.” He taunted, before teleporting to Roman’s room. Patton, he noticed, was sat on the bed while Roman worked at the desk, writing something with a fountain pen. Upon seeing him, Patton stumbled to sink into the wall behind him as Roman leapt out of his chair and created a sword, which he pointed at Deceit, who laughed confidently but nervously.

“Gentlemen, please calm down. We all know that nobody needs to get hurt.” He laughed heavily, poking the tip of Roman’s sword, making it disintegrate in his hands. “And remember that any attempt to hurt me is fruitless; I am more than you. Now, let us all take a seat…” He waved his hand to form a mahogany chair and two others made of plastic.

“What is this?” Roman asked.

“Just a meeting.”

“Why?” Patton asked, quivering.

“We know what you did to us this morning… We know!”

“Yeah, we know!”

“Well done, boys, you did the bare minimum in recognising that something happened. Have any of you spoken to Virgil to ask him what happened? Or are you just pretending to care about what I did, while not even giving your new friend a second glance?” The other two fell silent. Patton gulped, and Roman put his arm around him supportively.

“We’re not scared of you.” He spat at him.

“I do not want you to be. I want you to re-evaluate yourself. Virgil needs friends, and the fact that you know I did something to make you so negative towards him but still neglect to do anything about him is rather telling on your character. You call me out for my actions to show that you’re clever ‘oh look at us Deceit, we know what you did we’re so smart’!” He mocked. “But you know what? If you were as smart as you try so desperately to portray yourselves, you would talk to Virgil, ask him if he’s okay, and try to be friends with him. I never thought that it’d be too much to ask but here we are. Do not disappoint me. I can only hope that, if nothing else, you’ve listened to me, but considering everything even that might be setting the bar too high for you both.” He stormed out of the room and marched furiously back to his own, leaving the couple behind in mortified shock.

“What was that all about?” Asked Roman, simply to break the silence. “I thought he didn’t like Anxiety?”

“I-I don’t know. Should we do what he says? Should we go find him?” Asked Patton, his bottom lip trembling.

“I want to go talk to Logan first.” Quietly, so as not to attract the attention of Deceit, they too left the room.

“We could have teleported…” Whispered Patton, making Roman smile anxiously.

“I forgot we could do that.”

 

It had been nearly an hour of discussion before Logan suddenly stood up, frustrated and unsure.

“But Virgil does not seem to like us. He left so quickly after you’d summoned him.” He said calmly, gesturing at Patton.

“I think you’re wrong. He doesn’t like what Deceit made of us, and can you really blame him?” Patton interjected. “I mean, it’s not like he’s always wanted the best for Anxie—Virgil, sorry—and I don’t think he knows what happened. As far as he knows, we are actually mean. If we just told him what had happened, maybe he’d understand, I mean it’s not like it’s implausible for Deceit to do that, so he’d probably believe us.”

“My main problem is, among others,” Roman said, “is that I can’t understand why Deceit would possess us and make us act horribly towards Virgil and then expect us to do something about it! I mean, could he really be regretting how mean he made us act already? I don’t even… I never knew he could _feel_ like that.”

“Despite how he portrays himself, he cares about Virgil.”

“Is that why he didn’t make him a light side until now? Because he’d be sad to see him go?” And it continued for another hour well into the night, throwing suggestions and more questions between the three of them, and never even coming to a definite conclusion.

 

They talked as if he couldn’t hear them, and Virgil listened through the wall at what they were saying, piecing together the whole story in his head, and it suddenly clicked: they didn’t hate him, Deceit just wanted to spite him. Unsure whether he was enraged or overjoyed, he clutched his chest at his heart and tried to calm its beat, his mind focussing, no longer on the words uttered from next door, but on Logan, and how he never despised him for being Anxiety, and how even when possessed by Deceit, he was still the least cruel to him… The bar was, perhaps, a bit too low, but it was something. Calming down, he put his ear back against the wall. Though muffled, he could still make out what they were saying.

“Do you think he’d forgive us? What if he doesn’t?” Logan asked, his voice cracking.

“Oh, Logan, why do you care so much?” Roman teased. Virgil couldn’t tell, but Logan quickly became flustered, his hands flailing in defence and rapid readjustments of his tie and glasses.

“Roman look! Little Logan is blushing!”

“I’m the same height as you, don’t call me ‘little’!” He protested. Virgil had to cover his mouth to stop himself giggling.

“Little Logan loves a lonely lad!”

“Shut up, Roman, though I applaud your consonance. Also I believe ‘lad’ to be a British term, how do you know what it means? And lower your voices, both of you, what if he can hear?”

“Sorry…” Patton whispered in a hush voice. Virgil smiled, still able to hear them rather well. “Just admit it—to us at least!”

“Admit what?”

“Your love for Virgil!” Exclaimed Roman excitedly, ignoring Logan’s demand for hushed voices.

“It’s not love, it’s—it’s… Just _infatuation_!”

“I swear infatuation doesn’t last as long as your _love_ has!” Patton teased, matching Roman’s tone.

“And you confessed to Deceit that we know more on the topic of love than you do, and we’re _telling_ you that you love Virgil!”

“You heard that?” Asked Logan, exasperated.

“Well yeah,” said Roman, “pretty much everything is audible outside Deceit’s room.” And silence. Virgil didn’t react, he was far too engulfed in his own happiness to even be invested in the conversation anymore. He covered his face in his hand and rolled back and forth on the bed, unable to control himself in joy. He’d stopped listening, but the conversation continued.

“Everything?” Logan asked, his heart racing with more than love for Virgil, but now anxiety. What a sweet irony.

“Oh no, do you think he’s heard us all?” Patton asked, clutching Roman’s hand.

“I don’t know… It’s quite late, he could be sleeping, or listening to music with those noise-cancelling headphone he has.” Logan reasoned. “But if he has heard, he may be expecting something from me now! What do I do?”

“Whatever your heart tells you?” Suggested Roman.

“Patton represents the heart amongst us! Patton, what do you suggest I do?”

“Well, it’s important to wait until you’re ready. As much as we joke about it, you shouldn’t really do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you love him, it may be wise to do something about it rather than just hoping it goes away… We know you’re not good at feelings, Logan, but it’s unhealthy to just ignore them.”

“Didn’t you pretend to be happy for a year while you actually had crippling depression?” Interjected Logan.

“This is about you, not me.”

“Well…” Logan thought. “I suppose I should gather data from a primary source; how did you two end up together?” The other two sides blushed quickly, Roman squeezing Patton’s hand and Patton fiddling with the sleeves of his cat hoodie.

“I burst into his room one day and just screamed ‘I love you’ and threw some roses at him—Logan no come back!” But he was already gone, searching the depths of his mind to conjure the perfect bouquet of roses: red, lavender, dark pink, orange, burgundy, white, and black. That should hopefully suffice, if Virgil knew rose colour symbolism, the bouquet alone should get his intentions across. He materialised the bouquet, made sure that there were no thorns, and slammed Virgil’s door open. Virgil, who had stopped listening a while ago, was startled so badly at Logan’s silhouette looming in the doorframe that he fell off the bed. Logan threw the bouquet at him, which Virgil caught rather impressively.

“You make me feel things!” He shouted, before running away and slamming the door behind him, making Virgil’s whole room shake. He switched the light on and examined the roses, eyeing up each colour and wondered if there was a meaning behind each one. One quick internet search later, and he sincerely hoped with all his heart that it wasn’t coincidence: red for love; lavender for majesty; dark pink for admiration; orange for desire and fascination; burgundy for unconscious beauty (what that actually meant, he didn’t know); white for unity; and black for new beginnings, change, and courage. His bottom lip quivered and he reached to wipe a tear from his face.

“Sorry about throwing it at you, are you okay?” Logan asked, reappearing in the door frame, once again startling Virgil enough for him to fall off the bed.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine definitely don’t worry about me how are you?” He spoke quickly, and noticed Logan blushing. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, before Virgil gestured for Logan to enter. He sat on the end of the bed, near Virgil but not too close, and rubbed his palms together.

“Are the colours deliberate?” Virgil asked, before the silence settled too comfortably.

“They are… I’m glad you noticed.” He smiled shyly. “May I ask, why do you hide your face in that makeup?”

“Oh, you asked me that this morning…” Virgil replied, his heart beating faster and faster.

“I was possessed by Deceit, so I didn’t really hear your answer.”

“Oh, I heard, trust me.” They both laughed. “I’m relieved you can’t remember, though, because I lied…” He gulped.

“It’s okay,” Logan said, taking Virgil’s hand. Though he flinched away at first, he accepted the affection gratefully. “I won’t judge you, take your time.”

“It isn’t makeup.” He confessed, trying to catch his breath which was being destroyed by waves of anxiety crashing through him.

“Are you _that_ sleep-deprived?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “A while ago, I asked Deceit to give me a name like you guys. He got angry, so he did something—I don’t quite know what it was—but when he was done I had these dark circles under my eyes, and they hurt all the time. He said that they were to serve as a reminder that I wouldn’t ever be a light side…”

“And look at you now. You said they hurt constantly?”

“All the time. It doesn’t end.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll try to think of a way to make them less painful for you. I’m sure there’s something…”

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted, squeezing Logan’s hand and shuffling closer towards him, “they hurt, but you being here makes everything more bearable.” He reached up and kissed Logan on the cheek. He was warm from all the blushing—a problem not helped by Virgil’s incessant lovable tendencies—and anxious, too, but he kissed him back, holding his face in his hands and kissing him softly.

 

Deceit watched all this transpire from his ‘secret room’, staring intently at the omnipresent cauldron, acting as a secret window to wherever he wanted. He watched, with satisfaction and tenderness, the two finally find love in each other. Wiping away a tear with a gloved hand, he smiled. Despite everything he was, and everything he’d done, he would definitely miss Virgil. But this was for the best. For everyone else. Everyone else, except him.


End file.
